Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know
by Trbl
Summary: At the end of Thor, Loki threw himself from the bridge intending to die. He hadn't counted on the girls at St. Trinians, though. But then, no one ever does. Loki/OFC. NOT Avenger's compliant.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not "Avenger's" movie compliant. Special thanks to SpaceAnJL for her prodding, allowing me to bounce idea's off of her, and especially for her "suggestions" on some of the dialogue. THANK YOU!

Loki had thrown himself from the Bridge with every intention of perishing. He was falling, falling, falling, and then suddenly…not. He jerked to a stop, and felt himself being yanked sideways. To say that he was surprised to find himself crashing through some kind of ceiling onto the floor of a small room was a bit if an understatement.

He blinked dazedly up from his position on the floor. There were two young females standing over him, and three others standing back. There was a voice from behind him. "What the hell have you done?"

"Sorry, Miss, but Chloe said that we needed help." The two girls chorused. They were both diminutive, but one was red-haired and the other dark. The girl they indicated, a blond, lifted her chin at their words.

Loki, still stunned from his fall, slowly turned his head to face the one the girls called "Miss". She was small, slim and had a lot of hair, an unlikely shade of pink, piled messily atop her head. He tried to get up from his prone position, and found several pairs of hands eager to help.

In fact, some of the hands in question seemed to be touching him in places that he hadn't been touched in a long time. He froze, his green eyes wide in shock.

"Girls!" "Miss" admonished. "That's hardly appropriate." Her clear blue eyes met Loki's. "They're rather forward, I'm afraid." She came towards him, "I'm the Matron, Miss Murgatroyd."

He drew himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit taller than Miss Murgatroyd. "I am Loki, son of…," here he trailed off. He'd forgotten. He was *not* the son of Odin.

"Well, Loki, I'm terribly sorry that the girls summoned you, but…," her eyes widened. "Loki?" She turned to the girls. "You summoned the God of Mischief? Are you mad?" While she chastised the girls, Loki took a better look around the room into which he'd fallen. All of the furniture had been pushed back against a wall, and on the floor, there were runes, drawn in the shape of a triangle.

The girls chose not to answer that question. Instead, "We need him," was the response from the dark haired girl. The others nodded in agreement.

Loki's attention refocused on the conversation as something in his chest lurched at those words. "Need, how?" He asked, his tone ominous despite his pleasure at being needed.

"Girls," Miss Murgatroyd sighed. "You can't just summon the God of Mischief because the school is in a tight spot. We've been in tight spots before. We always manage."

Loki found it interesting that she was less concerned that her apparent charges had summoned him, than in the fact that the girls didn't seem to think the "school" could manage.

"But we need something spectacular," said the redhead. "We need rather a lot of money."

"That's as it may be, Angel, but…," she trailed off with a look at Loki. Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing, Miss," the girls protested their innocence. Loki doubted that, and he did not even know them. He forbore mentioning that he had been injured before the girls summoned him.

"Well, someone obviously did. Chloe, go let Miss Fritton know what you have done, please." She returned her attention to Loki. "Come with me to the infirmary, please, Mr. Loki. I fear you may have a concussion."

"I do not know what that is, but I am quite certain that I do not have it."

"Are you a trained medical professional?" She returned. He looked puzzled. "I thought not. Follow me." She turned on her heel and left the room, clearly expecting him to follow. Left with the choice between staying with the children and following the adult, Loki followed.

She led him to a larger room with several beds, and an office feel to it. "Please sit down." She gestured to one of the beds. "Would you like to change into something more…comfortable than the armor?"

He blinked at her, looked down at himself, and magicked his clothing into a nice black suit with a green silk shirt.

She looked startled. "Oh." She blinked at him a couple of times. "That's convenient, but I meant … never mind. Follow the light with your eyes only, please." She flashed some kind of light in his eyes, checking for who knew what.

His confusion must have been clear, although he was usually good at hiding his thoughts. "I'm checking to see if your pupils are dilating properly. Next, I'll check for tenderness." She ran her hands gently over his scalp. For a man who was unused to casual touch, it was surprisingly pleasant, and he was surprised to find himself leaning into her hands.

She put iodine and bandages on his injuries, including the ones on his torso, which necessitated the removal of his rather nice shirt. Just about the time she finished, an older woman came into the infirmary with Chloe. The woman was almost as tall as Loki, with questionable blonde hair, and her voice, when she greeted him, was high-pitched.

"Hello, Chloe tells me we are entertaining a..._god_ here at St. Trinians."  
The sweet, social smile was quite at odds with the appraising look that swept him up and down. He suddenly felt the loss of his armor quite keenly, which was ridiculous.

"Loki Odinsson, Miss Fritton, Headmistress of St. Trinians." Matron Murgatroyd said.

Loki had been raised at court, and knew what was appropriate. He stood and sketched a bow. Miss Fritton gave a light titter, "Oh, how charming, I do so like good manners. Now, I do hope that my girls haven't inconvenienced you too badly, I would hate for you to think ill of us." She patted absent-mindedly at some of the bandages on his chest. "They _can_ be a little too enthusiastic on occasion. Our school motto is 'Always Strike First', you see, and whilst in other schools girls are sent out quite unprepared into a merciless world, when our girls leave here, it is _the merciless world_ which has to be prepared."

"My injuries were pre-existing, madam." Loki managed.

"Hmm." Those eyes were quite penetrating. "This school is also a safe haven for those who find themselves at odds with what society deems acceptable. And it never hurts to have a god on-side, whatever the pantheon. What do you intend to do now?"

It was the Matron who replied. "I'd really like him to stay in the infirmary, at least for tonight." She turned to Loki. "Would that be acceptable to you?"

Loki was pleased that she had consulted him. In his experience, healers rarely did so. "Yes, perhaps that would be for the best," he replied in silky tones to cover for the fact that he really had no idea where else to go.

"Wonderful," Miss Fritton proclaimed. "I'll leave you the Matron's very capable hands." With a significant look at the Matron, Miss Fritton took her leave.

Murgatroyd sighed. "She can make almost anything sound rather naughty."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged in return. "Do you want to lie down a bit before tea?"

Loki was nothing if not adaptable, "I would, but perhaps not right this moment." He hesitated. "Is it appropriate to enquire as to why the school needs money?"

"In the real world, no it wouldn't be," she smiled at him. "However, as Miss Fritton alluded, St. Trinians has never abided by the social niceties. Our most pressing need is to pay back taxes. I must confess to being surprised, as I thought that had been taken care of. Regardless, that's what we need the majority of the money for."

"And these taxes would be…?"

"Oh," she seemed surprised by his ignorance. "Do you know tithes?" At his nod. "It's similar. The government taxes its citizen to pay for the upkeep of the country. In this case, the United Kingdom, more specifically, England."

"I see." He paused thoughtfully. "And how did you intend to acquire the means to do so?"

"Not sure. But, St. Trinians always comes through." Her smile was certain.

"And they sought to 'come through' by summoning me?"

A frown marred her pretty face. "Apparently. I am rather disappointed that they took what amounts to the easy way out."

"As opposed to what," he asked, his voice silky once more.

She shivered ever so slightly before answering."Something clever. In my day we took a casino for 85,000 pounds."

Loki was more than a little surprised by her answer. He'd expected something boring form this disapproving little person. He also briefly wondered what she'd taken 85,000 pounds of and how she had managed to transport it. He didn't remember exactly how Midgardian measurements went, but he thought that 85,000 pounds would weigh rather a lot.

Despite his neutral expression, she must have sensed his confusion. "Pounds are the monetary unit of England." He nodded, comprehending and somehow more surprised. "But these girls…."

"Would you like me to punish them for their impudence?" He offered with a smirk.

"Certainly not. Impudence we encourage. It's the laziness that I'm concerned with."

He blinked in surprise and began to wonder exactly what sort of a place this was.

"Perhaps, if you're not ready to lie down just yet, you'd like to be shown around the school?"

He stood, once more towering over her. He smirked down at her from his superior height. She didn't seem to be at all intimidated. In fact she gave him a surprisingly sweet smile. "You're wasting your time, Mr. Loki. _Everyone_ is taller than I am." The smirk slid from his face. "Are you ready, then?" He nodded stiffly at her.

He did not at all like the unbalanced feeling he got around her. Most people were predictable, and he could easily figure out what they wanted from him. Miss Fritton was easy. She wanted him to stay at the school to help her, and was willing to pander to him to attain that. Straightforward, perhaps even mutually beneficial. The girls wanted him to help them obtain money. What he got from them was slightly more nebulous. There was no doubt that he felt stronger and more powerful here, where these girls believed in him and his power.

But the little Matron… continued to surprise him, and often seemed to be able to read him as easily as he usually read others. And he was NOT used to be readable. And she didn't seem to want anything in particular from him. Of course, this just meant that he hadn't discovered what she wanted yet.

Still, best get a look around. Another nod at her, this one more amiable. She smiled that disarmingly sweet smile again, and gently led him from the infirmary.

As she showed him around, he became more confused not less. In the chemistry class (it looked like they were making potions and unguents to him) the instructor seemed to be teaching the young girls how to make bombs.

The admittedly sultry and attractive French teacher seemed to be teaching the girls how to ask how to find inappropriate places for such young girls. The look she shot Loki, however, was a balm to his ego. Clear interest and he allowed a smirk to cross his face. Several of the girls sighed. He chanced a glance at the Matron to see what she made of all this. She looked amused as she led him from the classroom.

The next class seemed to involve mathematics. However, the girls seemed to be learning about odds in games of chance. Loki made the connection between that and the Matron's comment regarding the casino. He vaguely remembered that games of chance, gambling were played in casinos. A plan started to formulate in his mind.

As the class became aware of their presence, the older girl focused on Loki with frightening intensity. He would admit, if only to himself, that the attention was rather flattering. Unfortunately, these girls were children. His glance slid to Matron Murgatroyd. She was an interesting one. Her whimsically pink hair, coupled with her overly reserved demeanor intrigued him.

The rest of the classes were just as confusing, and after the tour, he was ready to rest when the Matron suggested that he might like to rest a bit before dinner. He transformed his clothes into loose pants to sleep in, and climbed into the surprisingly cozy bed in the infirmary.

His dreams were filled with the coldness, real or imagined, of the Asgardian Court. Even before Odin's confession as to Loki's true origin, he'd been set apart, by temperament and skill-set. At least now it all made sense.

He was cold when he fell asleep, but was warm and toasty when he awoke. A warm hand rested on his cheek and a pleasant voice was speaking. "Mr. Loki? It's time for dinner."

His green eyes blinked open and he stared at the face hovering over him.

Concerned blue eyes stared back. "Are you all right?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I am fine." He sat up, not noticing her eyes drop to his now bare chest. "And, Matron?" She met his eyes, and his began to twinkle with mischief. "I have a plan."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N thank you to SpaceAnJL for her input. The only thing I own are the mistakes and original characters.

Loki sat up in the bed, stretching his arms and shoulders.

The Matron said, "I would just like to check your injuries quickly before dinner." She waited for him to nod, and gently removed the first bandage. Only to find that the injury had healed. "H-how…?"

"Magic," he said with a small grin.

"Why didn't you...?" She sighed, feeling embarrassed at her earlier concern for him. "I should have realized that you could take care of it yourself, when you were able to change your clothing so effortlessly."

He saw her embarrassment and let the smile fall from his face. "No, Matron, I needed to regain a little of my strength before affecting the healing. The garments were a cosmetic change, requiring little power. To heal my injuries required far more power than I had available earlier. I *was* in need of the care and sanctuary provided here."

She reached out a single finger to carefully prod where she knew an injury to have been earlier. "That's rather amazing." Curious blue eyes lifted to his green ones. "May I ask…? Miss Fritton said that the girls had not caused your injuries." She didn't finish, but then she didn't really have to. At his hesitation, she spoke again. "Miss Fritton offered you sanctuary. I do not question that. I would just like to be prepared for any storm that may follow." Her eyes screamed honesty. And few people could successfully lie to Loki, God of Mischief and Lies.

"Storm is an ironic choice of words, Matron." Loki said as he met her eyes. He then proceeded to tell her a slightly edited accounting of what had happened to bring him to this place. As he began telling her about the final confrontation that had culminated in his plummet from the Bifrost, he tried to gauge her reaction, but she kept her expression fairly neutral.

She had heard him out in silence, although her eyebrows had shot up a few times. By the time he finished, her eyes were icy with anger. "Do you mean to sit there and tell me that after kidnapping you as an infant, raising you as his own son, allowing you to become lawful bloody king after your ersatz brother was bloody well banished for trying to start a war, your father," she spat the word father, "had the audacity to… I thought that I had a screwed up family."

He blinked at her in surprise. This was not the reaction that he had been expecting from her. "Odin was doing what he felt was best for Asgard." He said finally.

"That's all well and good for the king. As a father…he sucks."

"Sucks?" Loki was confused.

"He was very, very bad at it."

"Ah… he saved me, Matron. On Jotunheim."

"So he says. You only have his word for that, and frankly, his credibility is nil." She suddenly realized that she was speaking of the only father that their guest could remember. "I'm sorry, Mr. Loki, that was quite rude of me."

"No," Loki hastened to say. "No, it was… pleasant to hear."

She gave a snort that was somehow still ladylike. "Next time I'll tell you about my father and *you* can be judgmental and rude. You should dress, and we'll head down do dinner." She stepped away to give him space for this.

During dinner, Loki told the Matron that he would need additional information in order to execute his plan. "Research would be Angel and Haley, you met them earlier." She had a tiny smile on her face as she said it.

He smirked back at her. "I'll speak to them after the meal, then."

"I'll send them to you," she offered, still smiling.

After dinner, she was as good as her word and brought the two girls over to him. "Mr. Loki, you remember Angel and Haley?"

"Of course," he said graciously. "I have need of…research." He hesitated a little over the word, but the girls were nodding.

"If you'll come with us, Mr. Loki." Angel began, adopting the Matron's mode of address.

"We can get started." Continued Haley.

The girls led him to a room filled with what Loki recognized as computers. They pulled up an additional chair for him, and after taking the seat he began to explain what he needed to them.

Haley began to search for what he was looking for. Angel looked thoughtful, and then spoke. "He'll need credibility. I think we need Flash."

"You're probably right." Haley agreed. She spared a moment from researching to send Flash a message.

Loki asked questions about what she was doing, and the girls explained about computers and the internet, information that Loki seemed to absorb like a sponge.

They hadn't quite finished the explanations when Flash showed up. He saw Loki, and heard them out regarding what they needed. He was inclined to resent another male in what he considered his territory, but was too excited by the plan to remain truculent for long.

"Wot you're really gonna' need, er, Mr. Loki, is a kick-arse car and a Posh Totty on yer arm." At Loki's blank stare-"Wot?"

"What in the name of Valhalla is a 'Posh Totty'?" Loki demanded.

Flash smirked at him, and sent a quick text. A few minutes later, Delilah, clearly one of the Posh Tottys sashayed into the room. Loki looked at her, eyes scanning her from top to bottom, and nodded his understanding.

"Delilah darling, our friend 'ere is going to Maxwell's and needs an in."

She tilted her blond head to the side, and blinked slowly. "All right, he's got the presence, but he'll still need reek of money to be able to get in there without a sponsor."

Loki considered what the girl said, stood up and transformed his clothes into a very fine black suit, with a pure silk shirt and tie. His shoes could only have been the finest Italian leather.

"Might I suggest that a linen shirt would work better?" Delilah offered.

Loki changed it, and allowed a princely sneer to cross his face. Delilah and Flash shared a look and said "Yeah," in unison.

Meanwhile, Angel and Haley exchanged a longing look and sighed.

"He'll need a stake, of course." Delilah said practically.

"Covered," Angel said. "Miss Fritton said whatever he needed."

"And we'll do a mock-up for him," Haley continued. "To familiarize him with the setup and games."

"Right, good," said Flash. "I'll work on a car, then and 'e'll be all set."

Things proceeded pretty much as planned. Angel and Haley got the mock-up organized. Loki had insanely quick wits and was beating the "house" 73% of the time without using magic. With magic, of course, he could beat it 100% of the time. The girls cautioned him against winning too often, that casinos could be quite unpleasant if they felt that the mark was cheating in some way.

Loki was aware of the Matron stopping by a few times, silently watching and then leaving just as quietly.

After the final session to acclimatize Loki, he, Flash, the Matron, and Delilah were having tea with Miss Fritton and her partner Geoffrey Thwaite.

Flash, trying to appear more comfortable with the dainty tea set than he truly was, spoke into the silence. "You know, it occurs to me, we could 'ave a lovely little gambling 'ell 'ere, Miss F."

"Oh no, dear boy." Miss Fritton replied in her high voice. "We tried that and found that there are those to whom even St. Trinian's should give wide berth." She then took a calm sip of her tea.

Loki cocked a curious eyebrow, aware that he was not the only one who would have liked to have heard more. However, nothing else was forthcoming. He met the Matron's eyes, and she gave a tiny shake of her head. She didn't know either.

It was Geoffrey who mentioned that Loki probably didn't know how to drive. So Flash took him out after tea to teach him the basics of driving. Of course, Loki picked it up very quickly, and was able to look quite natural behind the wheel. Two more lessons later and no one would have guessed that Loki was a new driver.

Finally, it was time. Loki stood in the foyer of St. Trinian's, waiting for Delilah, and being subjected to an inspection by Angel, Haley, the Matron, Miss Fritton and Flash.

Loki was once more dressed in a well cut black suit, deep green linen shirt, black silk tie, complementary silk scarf, black Italian leather shoes, and carrying an ebony walking stick with a silver knob on top. Matron Murgatroyd couldn't help but think that he looked like sex in smart tailoring.

"Wot's with the cane, mate?" Flash asked.

Loki's eyes narrowed at the familiar mode of address, and he pulled a sword from the walking stick with a "snick".

Angel and Haley whimpered in unison, while the Matron merely blinked rapidly at the sight.

Anything that Loki might have said was forestalled by Delilah's entrance. Loki had to admit, Delilah looked like the perfect accomplice for the venture. Her (green) dress was short without being too short, and she was showing just enough cleavage. In short, she looked like she belonged on a rich man's arm. He caught an odd expression on the Matron's face as she watched them get onto the poison green vintage Aston Martin that Flash had somehow managed to acquire for the night.

Wry, perhaps? Wistful would be nice, but Loki somehow doubted that. He shook it off as he handed Delilah into the car and then got behind the steering wheel.

The drive started off slow as Loki got used to the car, but soon they were zooming their way towards the casino. Loki couldn't help but mentally compare the way Delilah's hair was unmoving even with the wind rushing through it, and the Matron's perpetually untidy hair, loose tendrils forever escaping the bun.

Once again, he pushed thoughts of Matron Murgatroyd from his mind and focused on getting to the casino and what came after.

Getting into the casino was a lot easier that Loki had been led to believe. He pulled up to the entrance, eased himself out of the car, whilst the valet opened Delilah's door. He strolled to the doors, Delilah's hand firmly in his, gave the doorman a haughty look, and was in. No questions asked.

He walked down the sweeping staircase, aware of the many eyes upon them. He moved to the cashiers to exchange pounds for chips, and then to the Roulette Wheel. Looking bored, he placed his first bet. Delilah reminded him to lose a few times, then win a few, and move on to the cards, where he could really clean up.

All was going according to plan, Delilah reminding him to lose every once and a while, but overall, Loki was making a large profit. As Loki sat at the card table, Delilah stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders for "luck", drinking champagne, and whispering in his ear.

At one point, she excused herself to the ladies room, leaving Loki to –intentionally- lose three hands in a row, without his "good luck charm". As he was getting ready for his fourth hand, he realized that Delilah had not returned. He paused to locate her.

An unattractive older man, with a large waistline and florid face, has boxed her into a corner. Loki watched impassively, until the man grabbed her arm as she tried to move past him.

Loki froze. The girl was there with him, under his protection. Loki moved quickly to them, wrapped the hand not holding his cane around the man's throat and lifted him into the air. With a perfect arc, slammed him onto a nearby table. Loki brought the handle of his walking stick firmly to the man's trachea, his green eyes narrowed in fury. He hissed, "Mine."

The man nodded vigorously. Loki released him, and he scurried away. Loki looked coldly around the room, waiting to see if this would cause trouble. Surprisingly, no one blinked, and returned immediately to whatever their game of choice was.

"Are you well, Delilah?" He asked her.

"Yes, thank you, I – I'm fine." Her brown eyes were sincere. "Thank you."

"You are here under my protection. I shudder to think what the Matron would have said, had I allowed anything unfortunate to happen to you."

Delilah grinned. "Rather a good thing you avoided that."

"Indeed. Now, shall we finish?" He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully.

Loki and Delilah returned to their table, and Loki won the next several hands. He had a specific target in mind, and with Delilah's guidance was able to finally meet that goal.

They returned triumphantly to St. Trinian's. Loki thanked Delilah for her assistance, said goodnight and then climbed the stairs to the sickbay. He moved to the door that he knew led to Matron Murgatroyd's private quarters.

He quietly opened the door, and took a quick look around the dark room. His excellent night vision was able to make out most of the features of the room. It was smallish, with a desk, bookcase and a double bed, but not much more than that. As he took in the small figure on the bed, her eyes shot open, as if she realized that someone was there. She fumbled with the light next to her bed.

"Loki? What the…?" She sat up, her sheets falling to her waist. Her nightgown was modest, coming up quite high on her sternum, but Loki saw a puckered scar on her chest, just above her left breast. She saw where his gaze was and self-consciously pulled her sheet up to her throat. "May I ask why you are in my room?" She said with forced politeness.

"We won." He exulted, laying the pounds next to her on her bed.

"Of course, you won," she said in exasperation. "Was there any doubt?"

"No, but, here." He nudged the bills closer to her.

She raised her eyebrows at the amount of bills presented. "Exactly how much did you win?"

He smirked. "Eighty-*six* thousand pounds."

She was puzzled about his obviously delight in the amount, until it hit her. A thousand pounds more than she and her cohorts had acquired from a casino.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is going to be lovely."


	3. Art Appreciation 101

Art Appreciation 101

Loki heard the raised voices, and saw the sad little man come running out of the room, clothes clasped to his groin, but otherwise bare. Loki hesitated, but ultimately decided that he'd risk it. He strolled casually into the room. "Girls?"

"Mr. Loki," said one of the girls, Tabitha, he thought. Suddenly all of the girls were looking at him in a rather disconcerting manner. They walked in a circle around him, reminding him inexplicably of sharks. "Our model was disappointing," she said finally.

"Model?" He queried, against his better judgment.

Angel pointed to a canvas. "Art class, Mr. Loki. We're meant to be painting a live subject. And he was… uninspiring as a model."

"You're a god, right, Mr. Loki?" Haley followed up.

"That has to be more inspiring," Angel concluded.

Loki couldn't help but smirk. These little girls were bold, that was for certain. The question was: did he dare? He was certain that Matron Murgatroyd would not be best pleased, possibly nor would Miss Fritton. But….the little urchins were challenging him. He felt certain that he could …inspire them.

"As you wish," he said finally, a wicked look in his eye. He pointed to the small chair that had been set up, and with a gesture, made a large throne, a scaled down version of Odin's, with a green cape draped artistically over it, and his clothes literally melted from his body, leaving only his helmet. And if he hadn't been wearing the helmet when he walked into the room, well, no one seemed inclined to quibble.

Angel made a strange "ungh" sound, as Haley blinked rapidly. The girls exchanged a look and grabbed their brushes as Loki moved to the throne.

When Matron Murgatroyd found him, some twenty minutes later, he was lounging on the seat, legs spread, one of his elbows casually resting on the throne's arm, his chin in that hand, and the other elbow on his thigh.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Please, Miss, we needed a model and Mr. Loki was … well, a really inspiring choice," said Haley.

Miss Murgatroyd turned back to Loki, her eyes taking him in. Surprisingly broad shoulders for one so slim, well-defined chest, with sparse chest hair, firm abs, with a line of hair leading from his belly-button down. Her eyes followed the trail against her will. She shook her head as if to clear it. She forced her eyes to meet his wickedly twinkling green eyes. "These girls are 16 and 17 years old, Mr. Loki. This is wildly inappropriate, not to mention…," her eyes dropped again, "filling their heads with unrealistic expectations. That's just cruel." His eyebrows rose, as he smirked. She flicked a corner of the green drape over his groin. "Please, Mr. Loki, get dressed."

She turned to Tabitha, "do you even have paint on that brush?"


	4. Beware of Trolls

A/N This came from a chat with SpaceAnJL, wherein she suggested the troll bit, and I totally lifted it for this chapter (With her gracious permission, of course). So thank you SpaceAnJL!

Beware of Trolls

Matron Murgatroyd had just drifted off when there was a knock on her door. She sighed, knowing who would be on the other side of the door before she opened it.

She pulled on her housecoat and opened the door. As expected, Haley stood there. "Sorry to bother you, Miss, but he's at it again."

Matron Murgatroyd followed Haley up to the Geeks Lair. She knew what she would find when she got there: Loki seated in front of one of the computers doing cyber-battle with some poor fool who had disagreed with him. He clearly had too much time on his hands.

The Matron had to admit to surprise that he'd chosen to stay at St. Trinian's. He had been there for over a month now, despite his obvious boredom.

She wondered privately if he liked it there or just didn't have any idea of where else to go. She suspected that it was a combination of both.

He had to feel quite welcome there; Miss Fritton had professed herself delighted at his continued presence and had happily offered him a room, allowing him to vacate the infirmary.

Murgatroyd knew it was a flaw in her own character that made her question his residence. She would certainly feel better about the situation if she could find some reason why…why he stayed, certainly in the face of his boredom.

Matron followed Haley into the Lair and bit back a grin. Angel was staring reproachfully at Loki. No good deed goes unpunished, Matron thought. Angel and Haley had eagerly agreed when Loki had asked them to help him learn about Earth, and the UK specifically, and to acclimatize himself to the mores.

The girls had, in fact, dedicated one of their precious computers to just that cause. They appeared to regret it, as Loki had taken it over completely. And since he had discovered chat rooms, it had gotten so much worse. The Matron wondered idly if he had discovered porn yet.

She shook her head to clear that thought. "Mr. Loki?" She said finally.

He grinned up at her. "Ah, Matron."

"It's time for bed." She said.

His eyes darkened, "is it?' His voice lowered.

She blinked in surprise. "Yes. May I escort you to your room?"

He re-focused on the computer. "Not yet. This idiot is trying to convince me that he knows more about Norse Mythology than I do."

Oh dear. The fact that the "idiot" may indeed know more about the mythology was irrelevant. To Loki, they were talking about his actual life, and the story of it. She snorted. "Well, obviously he doesn't."

"Obviously," he drawled. "He's blathering on about myself being turned into a horse, and, after allowing myself to be mounted," his lip curled, "and impregnated, I gave birth to Sleipnir, Fath… Odin's horse."

"Ewww," Angel and Haley chorused.

"Indeed." He narrowed his eyes and returned his attention to the screen. "He is a fool."

"Of course he is. But there is little point to continuing to argue with him. He's clearly far too thick to even comprehend how thick he is. You'll never convince such a one, and meanwhile, you will have squandered your valuable attention on an undeserving fool."

Haley and Angel exchanged admiring looks as Loki seemed to see the reason, and rose from his chair.

"You are quite correct, Matron," he said decisively. "Goodnight ladies, my apologies for keeping you up so late." He bowed to them.

"Goodnight, Mr. Loki," the girls returned.

Loki stopped to allow the Matron to precede him from the Lair, and offered her his arm. They walked in companionable silence until a question that had been niggling at the Matron finally had to be asked. "Out of curiosity…, *how* were supposed to have been turned into a horse?"

He stopped walking and looked down at her. He quirked an eyebrow, even as he answered her. "According to the myth, I turned myself into a horse,"

"Oh." She considered this for a few seconds. "Could you?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation.

"Hmmm," she said, an idea beginning to form him her mind. She began walking again, and he followed without missing a step.

They stopped in front of the room that Miss Fritton had assigned Loki. "Good night, Mr. Loki."

"Good night, Matron." He opened his door, allowing her an unobstructed view of his room. For the first time, she saw that he had removed most of the original furniture, and most of the room was taken up with a large four-poster bed. Her eyes widened momentarily at the size of the bed. He smirked down at her, waiting for who-knew-what.

For just a few seconds she allowed herself to be distracted, until her innate practicality raised its head. "I believe that the room next to this one is empty, I'm sure that it could be turned into some sort of sitting room for you if you wanted, assuming that you would be able to create a doorway between the rooms."

He raised his eyebrows. That had not quite been the response that he had been looking for. Although, it was a thoughtful one. "Of course I could."

"I'll speak with Miss Fritton tomorrow then. The girls would probably be willing to move one of the computers down here for your use, and you would have a bit more space, and of course privacy."

His eyes softened. "That's very thoughtful."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Glad to help. Good night, again."

He dropped a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, Matron. Good night."

A few nights later, after the changes that she had suggested had been implemented, the Matron was passing Loki's door and clearly heard him swearing at some "thrice bedamned troll."

She walked away grinning.


	5. A Horse of a Different Color

A Horse of a Different Color

The Matron was allowing the seed of an idea she'd had to germinate. She thought there might be something there, but was willing to wait and see. Meanwhile, things at St. Trinian's trundled along as usual.

One event stood out, although the Matron didn't actually find out about it until weeks after it occurred. She was having tea with Miss Fritton and several of the girls; Tabitha who was one of the Chavs, an Eco named Amanda, Angel and Delilah, as well as Chloe, the Head Girl.

There was the informal update to Miss Fritton, and the then the inevitable gossip. There was talk about Flash, and the torch he was still carrying for Kelly. Then a bit about two of the girls who had been caught in flagrante, which happened more rarely than one might expect.

Then to the juiciest bit of gossip. "I heard," Angel started, "that our Mr. Loki might fancy someone."

"All right, there, Grace, dear?" Miss Fritton asked the choking Matron.

"Yes, Camilla, I'm fine."

With an amused quirk to her lips, Miss Fritton asked Angel to continue.

"Well, that's all I heard really. That someone," she cut her eyes to Delilah, "offered to do for him, and well, came away with the impression that he fancied someone."

Matron stared in surprise at Delilah. "Oh, no Miss, not I. Glendys." Delilah named another Posh Totty. She debated for a few seconds and then spoke. "Glendys decided to take your instruction to keep Mr. Loki happy here at St. Trinian's a step further, Miss Fritton. She went to his room, and offered to take proper care of him. He sent her away with a pat on the head, and a warning about Matron finding out and not being pleased about it."

Matron snorted. "That just means that I would find his taking advantage of such an offer inappropriate." And if she felt the tiniest bit disappointed that this appeared to be the sum of it, that was no one's business but her own.

But Delilah's expression said that there was more. "Perhaps, Miss. But, when she went in, she was wearing an itty bitty nightie, and sat ever so provocative on his lap. He lifted her straight up," Delilah's eyes were wide. "Sat her on her feet, wrapped her in one of his own blankets, and asked her why she was doing this. Glendys answered that Miss F. wanted him to feel welcome, and so did we girls. He told her 'you're barely weaned, child,' and tried to send her away. Being Glendys…she pushed the matter, telling him all of the naughty things she would willingly do for him. "

"She said he was quite shocked, and asked if Matron were aware of all this. When Glendys said not… he said it would be better for both of them if Matron never found out about it, as she'd not be particularly pleased that one of her little chicks was so advanced, and might well poke both his eyes out for seeing her in that bit of scrap." She went on to add that Glendys had asked him if he were afraid of Matron, to which he answered, "Absolutely. Any rational man would be." Which all of the girls who had heard the full story found surprising. Matron was quite the nicest person that any of them knew, and certainly no one to fear.

Angel sat quietly sipping her tea, listening, observing, her green eyes alight with mischief. She had heard one more piece of the story, even more than Delilah. From Mr. Loki himself. He had asked her and Haley just how much trouble they thought he'd be in with Matron when it reached her ears. "Dunno," Haley had said. "Guess it depends on how personally she takes it." He had stilled at her words, his eyes frozen on her. His eyebrows rose in question, and Angel had answered him. "Is it just protecting us, or her hurt feelings." She said plainly. A tiny smile quirked his lips. "I suppose we'll find out, then." Angel was meant to report Matron's reaction to him.

She thought that he'd be pleased with the report.

"Regardless," the Matron began, "it was highly inappropriate. Miss Fritton, surely it was not your intention…"

Miss Fritton knew her cue, "oh, certainly not, my dear. Girls, I'm quite certain that Mr. Loki can find his own," she paused delicately, "entertainment, should he wish it. Let us not make our esteemed guest uncomfortable, shall we." It was not a question.

As soon as tea was over, Angel scurried off to make her report. She found Loki out on the grounds, watching the girls take their target practice. He turned his attention immediately to Angel. As she spoke to him, his lips turned up in a smile.

A few days later, Matron Murgatroyd took herself to Loki's quarters. He opened the door and smiled down at her. "Matron, what an unexpected surprise."

"Mr. Loki, may I have a few minutes of your time?"

"Please," he said opening the door completely and gesturing expansively. "May I offer you something to drink? Tea, wine?" He wondered if she was finally here for the showdown about the silly child who had come to his room.

"No, thank you." She hesitated in the door, seeing for the first time what he had done with the space. Instead of making a doorway between the two rooms, Loki had gotten rid of the wall between them. One was still filled with the bed, but the new addition had a pair of comfortable chairs and a desk with rolling chair. "It looks rather cozy." She offered at last.

A smile lit his face, "yes, it turned out quite well. Thank you again for the suggestion." He offered her a chair.

He took the other seat, and cocked his head to the side, inviting her to speak.

"I had a bit of an idea, and wanted to run it past you before presenting it to the others." She cleared her throat. "Would you consider transforming yourself into a horse, and entering a race or two?"

"What would be the benefit of that?" He was puzzled.

"We could place a bet on you; as an unknown, the odds would be quite favorable. Money is always useful."

Light dawned. "I see. By all means, that could be an adventure."

Her lips twitched. "I think a stallion though, not a mare."

His eyes narrowed at her, before softening under her teasing gaze. "Indeed. When did you want to do this?"

"I thought that we could lay a bit of groundwork, a few races here and there, get you a bit of a reputation, before one of the bigger races, or, and this is more likely, we need a bigger payoff."

"Is the school really short of funds so often?"

"Surprisingly so." She sighed.

"Who has the responsibility of keeping track of the..er.. money?"

"Bursar, but he would never… do anything inappropriate."

His expression was skeptical, but he kept his doubts to himself.

"I'll ask the girls to find a suitable race to start with. Thank you." She rose.

He stood hastily "Are you quite sure that I can't tempt you..?" He broke off as her eyes flew to his. "To partake of some tea?"

Her tight expression relaxed slightly. "You could very easily do so, Mr. Loki, but I really wish that you wouldn't."

He blinked in surprise. That had certainly not been anything like what he'd been expecting. "I wouldn't like you to be…uncomfortable." He said at last, painfully aware of the subtext.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you." She moved towards the door. "I really must be off, I'm meant to be presenting a health seminar shortly. I'll see you at dinner."

He nodded and quietly closed his door behind her. He leaned his back against the door, his brows knit in thought.

A few days later, Loki was in front of the school getting ready to change. Matron Murgatroyd, Haley, and Angel were waiting. Angel, however, was keeping her distance. The Matron shot her a quizzical look. Haley replied, "She doesn't care for horses, Miss."

"Ah." The Matron returned her attention to Loki. "Have you decided what kind of horse you'll be transforming into?"

"Not the white stallion of literature, I think," he replied drily.

She grinned at him. "No, I shouldn't think that would suit you at all." She looked at him thoughtfully. "A black stallion, I think."

He nodded in acknowledgment and closed his eyes in concentration. A few long seconds later, a beautiful black stallion stood where Loki had been. The Matron went around to the head and stroked a delicate finger down his nose. "Oh," she cooed. "Aren't you handsome?" Horse-Loki preened before nuzzling her hair. "So this is the fruition of your idea, Grace?" Miss Fritton asked from the school steps.

"Yes, Camilla. We have entered him into a few smallish races." She stroked his nose again. "He's certain to do very well."

"Oh yes," said Miss Fritton. "As long as his rider has strong thighs and a good seat." Her tone could only be described as arch.

Loki whuffed a snort at that, ruffling Matron's hair. For her part, Matron shot Miss Fritton a Look, before returning her attention to Loki. She noted, idly, that his eyes, though brown as horses usually were, had green flecks, and looked far more mischievous than a horse had any right to.

She shook her head at the pair of them before she stroked along his nose once more. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, then down her neck. She gave a carefree laugh and rubbed behind his ears.

Loki was a little bemused by her seeming joy. He was happy to see it, but was uncertain as to its origin. She was still petting him, running her hands over his nose and back, when several of the other girls joined them. It wasn't until he heard one of the recent arrivals make a crude comment about the similarities between certain parts of him now and his bipedal self that he felt the Matron stiffen and begin to withdraw.

Since Loki was rather clever, he figured it out pretty quickly after that clue. She felt safe with him in horse form. She could safely show affection and receive it. Somewhere deep down, Loki began thinking of all of the vindictive things he would do to whomever had made her feel _unsafe_. Meanwhile, he did his best (which was very good indeed) to appear as horse-like, and thereby safe, as possible.

He pawed the ground, whinnied and generally acted "horsey". And it worked. The Matron slowly began to relax and pet him again.

Until Miss Fritton completely ruined it. "You should mount him, Grace. I'm certain that he wouldn't mind."

As Grace froze, Camilla Fritton could not mistake the glare Loki shot her, even coming from the face of a horse. The Matron spoke into the sudden silence. "I really should get back inside. Haley, would you show Mr. Loki to the stables, please?" And she was gone.

Things went according to Matron Murgatroyd's plan. Horse-Loki, newly christened Mischief, ran in four races, of increasing difficulties. The purses for the races were not large, but the school would never turn down cash.

The only issue came from the first time the race officials tried to take a blood sample to test for illegal substances. As soon as he saw the needle, Loki bared his teeth, and backed the Veterinarian against the wall of the stall.

"Mischief!" Grace Murgatroyd admonished. "He just wants to take a blood sample." She stroked his nose, and murmured, "it's not a weapon, Loki, I promise, he's just going to take a bit of blood." Loki turned an ironic eye to her. Her lips quirked in a smile. "And yes, I am aware that's the purpose of a weapon." He nuzzled against her. "All right, then, Mischief?" Another nuzzle, which she took as an affirmative response. She stepped back and gestured for the vet to carry on. She kept her hand on Loki, stroking around his ears.

Once the vet had finished and the St. Trinian's contingent was alone once more, the Matron addressed Loki. "Thank you for tolerating that. We ought to have warned you, but I'm afraid that it didn't occur to me." One more long stoke down his nose in apology. He rested his head lightly atop hers-apology accepted.

After the four smaller races, the girls found a larger one, with a more substantial purse. The night before, he was in his stall, dozing, when he felt something peculiar-something on his penis.

His eyes flew open in shock and he swung his head around to get a look at what was going on. A man was trying to fit some type of metal cylinder on him, while another appeared to be keeping watch.

Loki thought fast, backed both of the men against the wall and then sent a copy of his bipedal self to the Matron's room. She was sitting in a chair reading when his shade appeared to her. She gave a little start but recovered quickly. After he explained that there was a problem she threw on a coat and rushed out.

Loki briefly reflected that working at St Trinian's seemed to cut back on how long it took one to recover from shocks.

Meanwhile the men were struggling and protesting their confinement. Their language had gotten rather rude by the time Matron came rushing in accompanied by Angel and Haley. Each sported a weapon: The Matron had a hockey stick, which she wielded like a staff, Haley had a rounders bat, and Angel had a nice dainty set of brass knuckles and what appeared to be a katana sword.

"What the blazes is going…?" The Matron stopped as the answer to her incomplete question became clear. Angel looked quite confused as to what the metal cylinder was for, but Haley whispered an explanation. Angel's eyes went round in surprise. Loki rather wished he could have heard it, because he was still unclear.

"You dare," Grace Murgatroyd hissed. "You dare come into our stable and attempt to harvest semen from our horse. Do you have any idea …?" She stopped talking and whacked the man closest to her with her hockey stick. The girls got on board the plan quickly, and Haley struck the other man with her bat as Angel put her brass knuckles to good use on the first man.

Loki was still processing what the Matron had said about harvesting semen, while the ladies subdued the men. Angel had given one of the men a black eye, while Haley thumped the other with her bat. Grace pulled zip ties from her pocket, and secured the man that Haley had rendered unconscious. She came up behind the man that Angel was menacing with her sword and wrapped her forearm around his neck. Despite his struggles she was able to cut off his oxygen enough to knock him out. Once he slumped, she zip tied his hands and feet.

The Matron stepped up to Loki, ran her hand down his nose, and asked him if he were all right. In answer he rested his head atop her. She exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "Girls, return to the school, fetch… Mr. Thwaites, I think. He's the most respectable of us." As the girls were leaving, they each gave a spiteful kick to one of the bound, unconscious men.

Several minutes later, just before the would-be thieves began to stir, Geoffrey Thwaites, paramour to Miss Fritton, and former Minister of Education strolled into the stable.

"The girls explained the.. situation. I take it that we*are* notifying the authorities." Not by so much as a twitch of his lips did he show any amusement at the circumstances.

"Too right, we are. If you'd do the honors, sir, I would appreciate it."

Hours later, after the racing officials had sent a deputation to identify the men, and ensure that they were blacklisted, and the police had taken the two men away, everything began to quiet down. Everyone except the Matron had returned to the school.

"You did well, keeping your cover, subduing them and getting me." She ran her hand over his back and flank. "Thank you." She rubbed his ears, gently. "Goodnight."

Loki spent the rest of the night hyper-alert. He'd been attacked by dwarves, Jotun, his brother, and his brother's friends. But in his entire, long life, no one had ever, ever tried what those two imbeciles had tried this night. And quite frankly, he was more than a little disconcerted by the entire thing. On the other hand, the Matron's response was all that one could ask for in a collaborator. And she seemed quite impressed by his response as well. That was…surprisingly gratifying.

He was starting to wonder if he would ever be forced to leave this place, where they appreciated him, and his particular skills. Also, they seemed amused by his sense of mischief. He had never felt so…at home. He rather hoped that Miss Fritton would continue to be amenable to his presence.

He thought that perhaps he should find a way to garner another large amount of funds. One that included more of the girls. He knew the satisfaction one could gain from feeling included.

Loki won his next race, of course, and the substantial purse. Later, he joined Miss Fritton, Mr. Thwaites, Matron, and the Bursar for a quiet toast. After they'd drunk to everyone's health, Bursar spoke up. "The timing on that purse could not have been better. Taxes, again."

Everyone sighed a little, disappointed that the new funds were already earmarked.

Loki said idly, "I had no idea that British citizens paid taxes so frequently."

Geoffrey Thwaites' head snapped up. "They don't." His eyes narrowed at Bursar, who looked confused, but not afraid.

Loki had to admit that the Matron was probably right regarding Loki's suspicions about the Bursar.

"What do you mean?" The Bursar asked blankly.

"I mean," Thwaites began calmly, "that St. Trinian's should not be paying that much in taxes." He turned to Miss Fritton. "Camilla, dear, will you permit me to look into the matter for you?"

"If you'd like to, darling, of course."

And that was how they found out that the Revenue had been sending the school duplicate bills, and Bursar, too frightened of the Revenue, had merely paid them, without daring to question the frequency. Now, they actually had a credit, and had no idea how to deal with such a state of affairs.


	6. Hindsight, Hockey, Hippies and Heists

Hindsight, Hockey, Hippies and Heists

A/N A very special Thank You to SpaceAnJL for so many things that I would double my file size if I were to try and name them here.

As much as Loki enjoyed being at St. Trinian's, the fact had to be faced that sometimes, he got bored. There was nothing required of him, no routine to fill his time, nothing that made demands upon him.

He often found himself in the unused library. It required little magic to tidy it up, and Loki spent many hours there, reading. Angel had told him how to tell the difference between fiction and non-fiction. He'd found the biographies fascinating, especially those of kings, queens, and presidents. From there he progressed to fiction. Shakespeare was beautifully written, but … troubling. He saw so many parallels to his life, his brother's, and life on Asgard.

He spent a great deal of time contemplating those parallels, and looking deep within himself. He decided to talk to the Matron about it, she was in possession of all of the facts, level headed and he was a little surprised to realize that he trusted her opinion.

With that in mind he invited her to join him for a glass of wine one evening. She searched his eyes before accepting. After they had settled in their seats, a glass in hand, he broached the subject. Her eyes sharpened in interest as he spoke and then softened.

She rose from her seat and crossed to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Oh Loki. I believe you were little bit mad. Don't you think?"

He sighed, inexplicably comforted by her words. "I think perhaps I was. How can I be sure …?" He couldn't continue.

She squeezed his shoulder, and ducked down to face him full on. "Loki, I would never have let you near the girls had I any doubts. Whatever madness overcame you,*you* have now overcome."

"I wish that I had your certainty. Looking back, I was so foolish. How could I have ever hoped to prove to my fath… to Odin that I was more a son of Asgard than Thor, who is, indeed, the true son?"

"I'm not sure that your issues would ever have been solved by a single act. You see that, no?"

"Certainly, now, when it can do me no good." His normally smooth voice was bitter.

"Well, hindsight is always 20/20." He blinked at her in confusion. "The picture is always clearer looking back, with the benefit of more facts."

"Ah, yes."

She kissed his cheek and returned to her seat. "Would you tell me of an adventure that you had with your brother where your magic saved the day?"

"Do you truly wish to hear of this?"

"Very much." She assured him. His green eyes lit as he launched into an exciting tale.

Later, once the story had been told, the Matron listening with her eyes shining, she said a quiet goodnight and left him to his thoughts. Needless to say, he got very little sleep.

The Matron gently scolded him the next morning when she saw his sleep-deprived visage at breakfast. He found her scolding strangely reassuring rather than irritating. He was certain that had anyone else attempted it, they would have felt the sting of his annoyance.

Sensing that he needed distraction, she invited him to come and watch the hockey game that afternoon. Having a vague understanding of the game from watching the girls practice, Loki agreed.

Watching the girls in action was enlightening for Loki. He watched in awe and no little trepidation as the girls "played" hockey. Every time one of the St. Trinian's girls was struck Loki flinched and it was with the greatest self-control that he refrained from striking the offender down. When the game was over and the enemy soundly trounced, he praised their skill and enthusiasm. "Truly, you were as fledgling Valkyrie, smiting your enemies."

"I thought that the Valkyrie carried off the worthy dead to Valhalla," Haley said, her head cocked to the side in question.

"It is true that the primary responsibility is such, however, they are mighty shield-maidens. Each one is a warrior in her own right." The girls seemed pleased with the comparison.

A few unsettled days later, Beverly, St. Trinian's receptionist, approached Loki. Loki rather liked Beverly; he had an inexplicable fondness for her. He felt no romantic attraction, but she was sweet, harmless, kind and what Angel called goofy. There was no hidden steel in her, as there was with the Matron. Which, he supposed explained why, while he liked Beverly, that's all he would ever feel for her.

"Grace," she started. "Matron, rather, asked me if I would mind teaching you to meditate."

Loki blinked at her. "To what?"

"Meditate, Mr. Loki. You focus your thoughts inward and achieve harmony. She thought that it would help you to sort something out?" Beverly was curious, but not nosy. If he wanted to tell her what Matron thought he needed to sort out, good, if not, well none of her business was it?

"Did she?" His voice was cold.

"Yes, we all need to sort ourselves out from time to time. She didn't say what, exactly, just that she though meditation might help." She reassured him.

Loki's stiff posture instantly relaxed. He gave her a curt nod of acceptance. "What must I do?"

She led him to the library, one of the quieter places at St. Trinian's, and told him to find a comfortable place to sit. She lit her incense, and started some soothing music at a low volume. Assuming her own comfortable position, she began to quietly instruct him in the subtle art of meditation.

Subtly was always one of Loki's strengths, as well as quick-wittedness, so he caught on fairly quickly. Once he achieved a trance state, Loki was able to "sort" through his thoughts, as Beverly had put it. He was able to distance himself from his harsh memories, and in this way, see what he had done wrong, and where he had been right. Sadly, the former outweighed the latter.

Still, by the time Beverly brought him out of his trance, he had achieved a measure of peace. "Do you do this often, Beverly?" He asked her gently.

"Nearly every day, Mr. Loki. Would you like to join me again."

"Indeed, I would, if that would not disturb your own meditations."

"No, that would be lovely. It's nice to have someone to share it with." She smiled warmly at him, and they parted on excellent terms. Loki was happy to add meditating with Beverly to his slowly developing routine.

Angel and Haley showed him how to access the news sites on the internet, and arranged for him to be a subscriber to a couple of the more reputable sites. So the first thing that he did after his shower was to check these sites for interesting tidbits that he could offer up as conversation starters at breakfast, which he almost always shared with the Matron.

He also started to attend all of the hockey games, and many of the practices. That the Matron was, of necessity at all of these did not hurt his feelings. She would usually bring a thermos of tea, which she would always share with him.

Now he would meditate in the late afternoon with Beverly, with left him in a peaceful frame of mind and allowed him to sleep better.

One morning, a few weeks into his newly established routine, Loki was checking his news sites and discovered something that annoyed him. His brother, Thor, had joined a superhero group called the Avengers, and as a consequence, the Metropolitan Museum in New York, had an exhibit on Norse Mythology, in his honor.

Loki was cranky and out of sorts all day. He even snapped at Matron Murgatroyd. She narrowed her eyes at him, reminding him that beneath her generally sweet disposition was a core of steel. Before she could unleash the sharp side of her tongue, she froze, searching his eyes. Whatever she saw there made her release her breath in a huff.

"I apologize, Matron. I had no call to be so rude to you," Loki said before she could speak.

"I don't know what's going on, Mr. Loki, but I will assume it is something that will be resolved before you speak so rudely to me ever again." There was no question, but Loki nodded any way.

"Yes, indeed."

Then she smiled at him, and he knew that she had forgiven him, as easily as that. His green eyes warmed.

It was during his meditation with Beverly, that he was able to turn his turmoil into the beginnings of a plan. He decided that robbing the exhibit would give him great personal pleasure, as well as improve the finances of the school. And Loki was fond of the school for more than just the offer of sanctuary.

There was no doubt that being at St. Trinian's, surrounded by the girls who believed in his magical abilities and admired them, significantly enhanced said magical abilities. He could feel the additional power literally at his fingertips.

Having some of the girls along for the heist, as Angel and Haley would undoubtedly call it, could only increase the chance of success. Also, they would enjoy the act itself, of this he had no doubt.

So the big question now was: how many of the girls could he transport to New York to rob the Met?


	7. Ride of the Teenage Valkyrie

A/NThanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and help with this series *cough*SpaceAnJL*cough* Thank you all.

Ride of the Teenage Valkyrie

As Loki et al blinked into existence at the Met, he did a quick head count of his charges, before he released them from what Amanda, the eco had called a "group hug." He had Angel and Haley (each with a hand that had been placed oh-so-casually on his bottom) and Tabitha, Delilah and Chloe, the Head girl. Fortunately, he had very long arms, and was able to encompass all of the girls.

Good, he had everyone that he had left St. Trinian's with. Matron would be most displeased if he misplaced one of her charges. He was inexplicably cheered by the reluctance with which his two favorite minions released their hold on his bottom. It was disproportionately flattering how much his girls admired him physically. That was completely different, although no less appreciated by him, than their unholy glee for his acts of mischief.

Satisfied that all of his charges were present, Loki took a moment to look around. They were exactly where he had set out for them to be, which was a bit of a relief. The advance scouting trip he had taken, with Matron, had been almost more of a diversion, than work. He had changed his appearance, into something a bit more circumspect, and he and the Matron had very much enjoyed spending the day in New York. When he asked her had she been there before, she had had hedged, leading him to believe that she had been there, but perhaps he was better off not knowing why.

He looked at each of his girls in turn, and then sent them off on their individualized missions. Every instinct Loki had that applied to the girls had told him to keep them all together, but he'd been overruled during one of the many planning sessions. The planning sessions themselves had been a bit of a revelation to Loki, they had reminded him a little of similar sessions with his brother, the Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. During one of the planning sessions Chloe had brought up that they would be able to get more loot if they split up. Loki and, unsurprisingly, Matron had been against such a split. But Chloe had wisely pointed out that once the advance scouting had been done they could actually find buyers for specific pieces before they'd even left New York, with Flash ready to fence whatever they brought back, immediately, before anything had even been reported missing. At that point it seemed that it was only logical to go for said specific pieces.

Loki and that Matron had seen the wisdom of this plan, and had capitulated, albeit reluctantly; which is how Loki ended up with the unenviable task of sending his girls off without his personal supervision. He had set them up with as many protection spells as he could think of, not the least of which was a spell that would allow them to fly if they happened to fall from a great height. The girls had wanted to try that one out and in a touching display of trust, leapt from the second floor banister.

The wings worked perfectly, and the girls were able to practice and get used to being able to fly. They enjoyed it rather a lot, and squealed and laughed as they flitted around the foyer. Loki had a fond smile on his face as he watched them.

Loki was to acquire the Brisingamen, which was the jewel in the crown of the Norse exhibit. The Brisingamen was a silver pendant on loan from Swedish Museum of National Antiquities in Stockholm. It was alleged to have belonged to the goddess Freya. All of this was according to the placard at the exhibit. Loki had no idea where they'd gotten that bizarre idea. Freya would never have worn *silver*.

It was incredibly easy for Loki to remove the pendant from its' protective case. As soon as his hand closed around the pendant he felt a surge of power flow through him. Whatever the pendant was not, it *was* a power augmenter. Loki idly wondered if anyone else was aware of that fact.

Loki reset the case, and returned to where he and the girls were meeting to return to St. Trinian's. He was the first one there, and as he waited he studied the pendant. Delilah was the next to arrive, having successfully retrieved her specific item. Shortly they were only missing Tabitha.

Tabitha had been on the upper level, and as they were running out of time, Angel used her headset to call and ask what was keeping her. Tabitha was trapped by a security guard who was doing a round off schedule.

After a quick and hushed conference, they decided that Loki would create a distraction for the guard, and Tabitha would get to the railing and quietly fly down to them. Loki made noises in another area, far from them and Tabitha, and the guard took off to track it down. Tabitha got to the railing, climbed over it and took off. But she misjudged the distance and bumped her shoulder on the railing.

Off-kilter, she started to fall hard. Loki raised his hand to stop her, but Angel and Haley took off and caught her. They gently brought her to the ground and Loki gathered them all back in his arms.

Before he returned them to the school, he released the spell that was running the security cameras on a loop. This had been Haley and Angel's clever idea. They had showed them what it would entail electronically, and he was easily able to duplicate it magically. Just as they were fading out, a large part of a wall opposite them was blasted away. The last thing Loki saw as they disappeared was a man in black armor and a green hooded cape stride in through the hole.

Back at St. Trinian's, Grace Murgatroyd was awaiting the return of the adventurers. She allowed her mind to wander back to her trip to New York with Loki.

Loki had brought them to a quiet alley near the Met, and kept them invisible until he was certain that no one was around. He had altered his appearance and hers; nothing too drastic, just enough to be unrecognizable. He offered her his arm and they strolled out of the alley towards the museum.

Loki looked around him curiously. The hustle and bustle of so many moving people seemed to interest him, and he leaned down to murmur in her ear. "I had no idea so many people could live on such a small island."

"Space is rather at a premium here. The flats are tiny." She replied.

"Smaller than our rooms at home?" She felt a lurch at his use of the word "home".

"About the same, unless one is very wealthy."

She felt him nod and straighten back up to his full height. They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Loki held the door for her and followed her into the Met.

Angel and Haley had given the Matron a pair of glasses that functioned as a camera. With it, they could get a live look at the museum, and do a 3-D rendering. Grace put them on, and looked around. Loki stood a little in front of her, dressed casually in black jeans, a dark blue sweater, and a black leather jacket. When Grace realized that her gaze had fallen to his backside, she jerked her eyes up and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. It only got worse once she realized that the girls would have seen what had caught her attention, Loki's well-formed bottom in well fitted black jeans. (Back at St. Trinian's, Haley and Angel exchanged a smirk. Mr. Loki would be *very* interested in that piece of information.)

Loki pulled at the "shopping list" they'd gotten from Flash. Specific things they were to acquire to sell. He stuck his hand out, and she absently placed her own within it. It wasn't until they were walking along hand-in-hand that it truly sunk in. She deliberately did not look at their joined hands as they walked along. Her grip tightened on his for a few seconds. He returned the squeeze.

They wandered around and checked out all of the items on their list, making sure to scan all of the surrounding areas. They were able to locate a blind spot from the cameras. This is where Loki and the girls were to arrive and depart from.

Once they had gathered all of the intel, they left. Once outside the Met, Grace removed the glasses and put them away. That done, she spared a glance at their still joined hands and noted, with a smile, how his hand swallowed hers.

"Are we to return straightaway?" He asked her.

She hesitated. "We needn't. Perhaps we could get lunch somewhere?"

His eyes lit. "Yes, that sounds promising. Anywhere in particular?"

She had done some research prior to leaving St. Trinian's and had an answer ready. "I know just the place." There was a Scandinavian smörgåsbord that she had read about, and she had a feeling that Loki might enjoy it, for amusement value, if nothing else.

She led him to the restaurant, and once the host seated them watched him look around the place. "It's been here for several years," she offered. "It's supposed to be authentic, and rather good." She explained to him that there were several dishes, and he only had to grab a plate and choose anything.

The server came to take their drink orders. "May I suggest glogg?" Grace said, her blue eyes lit with mischief. Delighted with her spark of mischief, Loki happily agreed.

The glogg was served in a goblet and lit on fire at the table. Loki's eyes were filled with mirth as he tried to drink it. Once he'd managed a drink, his eyes widened in surprise. "Rather stronger than I was expecting on Mid…ah, here." He finished a little lamely.

"Indeed." She said demurely. For herself, she was drinking water, the better to taste all of the new dishes she intended to experiment with. They tried many different things: Surströmming, which was made up of fermented herring and boiled potatoes, meatballs, some kind of pea soup, black pudding, blood sausage, and for dessert pancakes.

Loki professed himself well pleased with the meal. The only problem occurred when the bill was brought. Loki paused awkwardly, having seen enough television by now to understand his responsibility, but unable to meet it.

Knowing his pride would not allow him to let her pay, and wanting to avoid him using magic, she had taken steps. "Check your jacket pocket," she said quietly. Inside was a handful of American currency. Fortunately, American monetary units were fairly straightforward. The bills told you exactly how much they were worth. Loki bowed his head to her. She had managed that without his being aware. Rather impressive.

Loki paid for their meal, and they wandered back out to the sidewalk. They decided that it would be a good idea to return to St. Trinian's at this point. Hand-in-hand they returned to the alley in which they had materialized.

Matron Murgatroyd was brought back to the present by Flash entering the room.

"Nuffin' yet?" He asked.

"They aren't due back for another two minutes."

Flash nodded. He was thrilled by the possibilities inherent in this heist. If everything worked as planned, they could make a fortune robbing every museum and gallery. And no one would ever be the wiser.

The team blinked back into the room, all drawn tightly to Loki. He had a look on his face that clearly bespoke of trouble. Matron shot to her feet. "Anyone injured?"

"My shoulder, a bit," Tabitha replied. "Bumped it, rather."

"All right, let's get you to the infirmary, then."

"Here, Flash," Tabitha gave Flash the handful of coins which had been her assignment.

After treating Tabitha's shoulder with an ice pack, and sending her on her way she returned to the sitting room. The rest of the girls had turned over their haul. Loki had never intended to turn over the pendant, and so Flash hadn't looked for a buyer for it.

Once everyone else had left (Flash with a skip in his step), Matron turned to Loki. "What happened?"

His green eyes met her blue. "Someone else was there on the same mission as we were. He arrived as we were leaving. And he was powerful. Very powerful."

"Well, we don't know what he was after."

"I think we do." He held up the Brisingamen pendant. "It augments magical power. I'm certain that he was after this."

Her eyes grew round as she stared at it. "Augments? So you're even more powerful, now?"

He wondered if she would be frightened of him now. But when he looked at her, she was grinning. He grinned back at her. "Much more powerful."

"Excellent."

Loki walked her up to the infirmary, said goodnight, and returned to his rooms. He lay in bed, and studied the Brisingamen pendant. He made a magical pocket in space, and put the pendant there for safekeeping.

The next morning, Loki was avidly checking his new sources for information on the heist, when he heard a whoop from what sounded like Angel. He rushed to the geeks' lair, and found the girls surrounding a computer. An American news anchor was talking about a robbery at the Met, and that it was suspected that Dr. Victor Von Doom had been the perpetrator. Cameras had caught him walking in, and then had gone on the fritz showing nothing else.

Loki and his minions exchange shark-like grins. They had gotten away with it, and someone else was getting the blame. The day couldn't get much better.

But for Loki, it did get better. His little minions told him about their observations during the New York scouting trip, namely Matron ogling his backside. That had been very interesting information, indeed.

But the true highpoint, although he would not admit that to anyone else, had come later. At hockey practice, the girls said that they were officially changing the name of the team. They were now the St. Trinian's Valkyrie. He couldn't have stopped the lump in his throat if he had wanted to.

"You are brave and amazing young women," he said in response, when he could finally speak. "And it is an honor to be here with you." A loud yell, and he found himself surrounded by the girls. He wouldn't call it anything so sappy as a "group hug", but it was lovely.


End file.
